


what scares us most

by InLust



Series: the case of roommates [4]
Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Admissions of Love, Angst, Basically married, F/F, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sherlock is being a jerk, wato is transparent as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 16:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InLust/pseuds/InLust
Summary: Sherlock understands what love is quite well, much to Wato's dismay, except she doesn't understand it like Wato does. Or does she?





	what scares us most

**Author's Note:**

> this i got from a prompt "Prompt 4 please!" If you're still doing them Maybe one from Watos POV, and one from Sherlocks? - 4. i think im in love with you and im terrified
> 
> of course, i've been trying to do this thing where i write the prompt but indirectly write it by paraphrasing it into an entire story concept hahah i hope its been going well (its probably frustrating because i know classic prompt writing is like 'let me insert the sentence so you can see the characters say it and feel feels' but clearly i like to deviate
> 
> also there are some japanese phrases in here that i've used and i won't translate them for you because there's a bit of cultural difference when it is translated so i want to let you guys have your own interpretation of the whole situation and i hope it turns out well 
> 
> let me know what you think if you'd like!

“She _had_ to kill him,” Wato insists as they walk into Sherlock’s work space. “She doesn’t love him. She doesn’t even care that he’s dead.” 

Sherlock slips out of her trench coat and hangs it up. “Just because she doesn’t seem like she cares about his death, does not mean that she doesn’t love him. There are other ways to convey love.” 

Wato stops in her tracks, surprised at Sherlock’s words. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?” she asks with deep interest. “Other ways to convey love?” She can’t help the small smile that curls up at the corner of her lips. 

Sherlock smirks at Wato’s intrigued expression. “Emotions still hamper intellectual productivity,” Sherlock counters obviously. “However, this case involves a little education on love.” 

Wato furrows her brows in confusion. “You are doing research on love?” She drops her purse on her chair and slips out of her jacket. She stares at Sherlock with rapt attention. “Did you learn anything that would be of use?” she says almost mockingly. She has a cheeky smile on her face because maybe, just maybe Sherlock has learned a thing or two about emotions.

Sherlock notes Wato’s change in demeanor and narrows her eyes. Her hands slip casually into her trouser pockets. “Of course not,” she grumbles much to Wato’s dismay. “The majority of articles on love seem to revolve around how to fall in love and how a deep emotional connection with someone will lead to a more productive and happy life.” She scoffs. “The absurdity.” 

Wato frowns, feeling offended. “How could you say such thing?” she exasperates. “To be with someone that you care about, spend time with them, learn everything about them, and to have them feel the same about you? That is so valuable.That’s love. Love is beautiful. And to be in love is--” Wato feels her heart swell even though she can’t quite find the right words “--would be incredible.”

“There you go again, being romantic,” Sherlock rolls her eyes. She takes a step towards Wato. “Emotions hamper intellectual productivity. There are plenty of ways to lead a productive and happy life that don’t involve the love you admire so much.” 

Wato huffs in frustration because Sherlock is always stubborn. “You don’t get it that’s why. You say I haven’t been in love before but you’re worse than I am,” Wato argues. Sherlock merely raises her eyebrows and Wato ends up blurting out all of her thoughts. “You’ve never been in love. You don’t understand what love is. And even if you did, you can’t be in love.” 

Sherlock’s expression changes. The impassive and stoic look on her face slowly changes with a tilt of her head, eyes trained on Wato. 

Wato feels like maybe she went too far. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. Her word were harsh. But she’s known Sherlock for a long time. Never once in the course of their time together has Sherlock expressed any interest in anyone, romantically. All she does is cite the hindrance of emotions. What else is Wato supposed to expect? For someone to know so much, Sherlock can understand so little. 

Sherlock’s eyes soften. 

Wato’s eyes widen because she’s seen this tender look on Sherlock’s face before. Maybe her words were a bit harsh because she knows that Sherlock has emotions. Everyone has emotions; not all of them can be rationalized. It’s what makes Wato revel in love - she loves the unknown, the rush, the anticipation that makes her heart pound inside of her. 

“Do you honestly believe that I don’t understand love?” Sherlock’s voice is low and testing. There’s a hint of her unbridled confidence that always makes Wato shiver.

Wato nods. “You find it unjustifiably bothersome,” Wato counters through her pounding heart as Sherlock steps towards her lazily with her eyes gazing at Wato. It makes Wato feel completely bare. “What?” 

“ _My dear Wato_ ,” Sherlock croons. “ _If only you knew._ ”

Wato stares in complete confusion whenever Sherlock speaks English. She does it when it gets late into the night and her mind becomes unfocused.

Sherlock advances, casually and carefully like a trained cat. She licks her lips and Wato feels the shiver down her spine. “Do you want to know how much I know about love?” 

Wato defiantly stands up straighter, staring up at Sherlock as she steps into her personal space. It’s not uncommon, she’s gotten used to how the space between them shrinks because Sherlock is just like that and Wato likes to bother Sherlock in return. “Tell me.” 

Sherlock leans in, just like the first time they met. “I’ll show you,” her voice is husky as she whispers. 

Wato feels the heat from Sherlock’s presence, her cheek closer than before, brushing briefly against hers. It feels like she’s under Sherlock’s thrall. Not to say she hasn’t been before. She’s watched this woman plenty of times, staring in awe at how she can deduce everything about someone within seconds, drawing conclusions to the case with ease. Her intellect is nothing short of incredible. 

Wato would be lying if she said there weren’t nights she’s lied in bed wondering about Sherlock. All that she is is what Wato knows, but she wants to know more about her. She wants to know everything.

Sherlock’s hands find purchase at her hips and she tilts her head back. Wato feels immediately warm at the sudden touch. 

“What--what are you doing?” Wato shudders as she speaks, unsure of where to move because Sherlock’s face is inches from hers. 

Sherlock tilts her head with interest. “Showing you how much I know.” Her hands leave Wato’s hips and comes up to untie her hair. 

Wato’s eyes widen, feeling the ease of the hair tie freeing her hair and Sherlock’s deft fingers back at the base of her neck. She feels hotter by the second and she gasps when Sherlock grips her neck just a bit more and leans in. 

“Sherlock,” Wato has to interrupt. Her heart is racing faster than she can keep up with. She grasps Sherlock’s forearms. “What are you doing?” 

“What do you think?” Sherlock smirks. Her hands cup Wato’s cheeks, firmly hold her in place. 

Wato’s throat feels dry. She doesn’t know what to think. Sherlock has to be kidding. Sherlock glances down to Wato’s lips. “You’re so close---” Her thought falls short and she unconsciously licks her lips.

Sherlock presses their foreheads together. 

Wato shudders and their noses brush against each other. She can feel Sherlock’s lips hovering over hers. Something inside of her tightens. A heat starts to pool in her belly. The anticipation has her heart racing. The thought of Sherlock this close, touching her so intimately, is unlike anything she’s imagined. 

Time seems to slow down. Wato takes in only Sherlock’s presence. She can smell her shampoo, the coffee she drank, the ink she used. Everything about Sherlock right against her. But there’s an undeniable yearning for more. It so scary it paralyzes her in place. 

“Kiss--” Wato unconsciously whispers. 

Sherlock chuckles. “You’re tachycardic, diaphoretic, and hot,” she suddenly says. Wato jerks her head back in response. Sherlock’s eyebrows are raised with a smirk on her lips. “Your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are flushed.” Wato feels her stomach turn. “These are a _few_ physical indications of attraction, Wato.” 

Sherlock drops her hands from Wato’s cheeks with a squeal of delight. The sound sends a chill through Wato’s bones like a bucket of ice was just dumped on her. 

“But that is just physical attraction, isn’t it?” Sherlock goes on with a gleam in her eyes. She looks like a cat with a canary in her mouth. “Love can be expressed through five languages. Quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, physical touch, and words of affirmation. Quality time can be seen through how much time you’ve willingly spent with me. I made my intentions very clear that I would make it difficult for you to want to stay but here you are still. Receiving gifts: I don’t give you much. The most I’ve ever given you is knowledge and opportunity to find the truth in mysteries that are presented to us. All of which have reinforced your purpose. Acts of service--” Sherlock clicks her tongue. “Oh, Wato. How much you are willing to do for me. When I’m not looking do you not think I notice you talking to Reimon and Shibata--calling my brother or Miss Hatano?” She laughs as if it’s amusing. 

Wato stands there, reeling from the intimate moment before. She shivers, feeling the hurt and anger replace whatever she felt before. And the more Sherlock speaks, the more she realizes she’s _right_. She can't love me.

“You don’t tell me you love me,” Sherlock says with excitement. The same excitement when she’s solved something and Wato feels her heart clench. “But it’s very obvious that you do. You love--”

“Yamete!” Wato suddenly yells. She doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want to hear Sherlock say it. Everything she’s said, all the things that Wato has done in her presence, exposed as if it was nothing. _Sherlock and love_ \---just...She unconsciously hugs herself. She can barely look at Sherlock, who is still smiling confidently. Wato swallows the tears that have balled up in her throat. “...nante hidoi koto wo…”

“Are?” Sherlock barks out in confusion. 

Wato feels the hurt because Sherlock really won’t get it. For Sherlock emotions hinder intellectual productivity. Even if she knows how they work, she can’t feel what Wato does. “Waketteinai no ne?” She takes a small breath to control her emotions, shaking her head to herself because there’s no sense in arguing when it starts to hurt. “I’m going now.” 

“Eh? Wato?” Sherlock calls out.

Wato doesn’t regard Sherlock, taking her bag and jacket, and rushes upstairs to her room. _How could Sherlock be so cruel?_ To know all about what love is and expose all of her feelings. So what if Wato is in love with Sherlock? It’s obvious Sherlock will never love her.

\---------------

Sherlock watches as Wato walks out of the door. She tilts her head, capturing the tears welling in Wato’s red rimmed eyes. It isn’t that hard to spot on Wato’s fair complexion. 

_ She is upset. What you said has upset her. However, she doesn’t want to speak to you. And you have nothing to say that would make her feel any better.  _

There’s a tightness in her chest and a bitter taste in her mouth as she watches Wato rush out of the room. 

_ Waketteinai no ne _

Sherlock _understands_ love. She can’t understand it the way Wato does, but she understands it. She understands what it’s like to connect with someone on a deep intimate level. It’s the longing for Wato to come home after a long day apart. It’s the comfort of Wato organizing the room quietly around Sherlock. It’s the desire to touch Wato at every chance she can get. 

But she can’t. 

Sherlock sits down in her seat, feeling an emptiness in her chest as she stares at Wato’s empty seat. But then she inhales deeply. Her heart skips a beat and her eyes automatically stare out the door after Wato. 

_ If only you knew, Wato, what I felt for you.  _

Sherlock doesn’t linger on the thought; after all, she has a case to solve. The only matters of the heart she is concerned about is whether or not the wife had it to kill her husband. 

Unfortunately for Sherlock, she found out the hard way what the wife was capable of. In retrospect, she should have listened to Wato. Wato had good instincts of reading people and their emotions too. In the time that they’ve spent together, Wato has become valuable and indispensable to her. 

When Wato isn’t there, Sherlock feels her absence fiercely. It bothers her to wonder where Wato is when she’s not accompanying Sherlock. She can hear Wato’s complaint as she interrogates the wife for more information, however, she keeps in mind that Wato isn’t there. The sensation in her chest is tight the whole time. 

Sherlock had been looking at the family photos when the wife had jabbed a knife into her side. 

The wife could indeed kill, fearing for her life. 

Sherlock fought with what she could to subdue the wife. She’d pushed back, fighting for the knife as she bled before slamming her into the doorway to knock her unconscious. 

It’d taken her minutes, trying to call the police and the ambulance, as she struggled to stay conscious. Except all she could think about was how glad Wato wasn’t there. 

_ I’m just trouble for her.  _

When Sherlock wakes up, the first thing she feels is the disgusting sensation of cottonmouth. She tries to lick her mouth to get rid of the dryness. 

The second thing she feels is a weight against her left side. She has to blink a few times, eyes readjusting to the light in the hospital.

_ Wato.  _

Sherlock recognizes Wato’s scent instantly: rose and lavender with a little bit of honey. She inhales deeply, feeling comforted by her presence. 

The rise of her chest stirs Wato. 

Sherlock unconsciously stiffens, trying her best not to move anymore. 

“What’re you doing?” Wato sleepily asks as she picks up her head. 

Sherlock warms at the sweet sound of Wato’s voice. “Nothing,” she rasps. “Why…” She shifts extremely slightly and hisses at the wound on the opposite side. 

Wato sits up quickly, doing a good job of not moving Sherlock. However, Sherlock tries to move to get comfortable but she can’t because it only causes her more pain. “Stop it,” Wato scolds. Her hands come up to Sherlock’s shoulder to ease her back onto the bed. “You’re going to tear your stitches.”

“Water.”

Wato nods, turning to pick up the cup on the bedside and holding out the straw for Sherlock to sip. 

Sherlock reaches for the cup weakly but Wato slaps her hand back down, insisting that she sip. 

Sherlock takes a sip with Wato staring carefully to make sure she drinks enough water. There’s a quiet moment as she sips before she’s had enough. “Did they catch the wife?” Sherlock asks as she lies back into the bed again.

Wato lets out an annoyed sigh. “They did.” Sherlock raises an eyebrow at the sound. “Why did you think it was a good idea to go on your own?” she demands. 

“I told you I was going,” Sherlock reminds.

“That’s not the point,” Wato angrily counters. “I told you to watch out for the wife and you didn’t listen to me. You probably said something to anger her and she lashed out very quickly. Now look at where you are.” 

Sherlock sighs. She knows there were better outcomes had she been more careful. What bothers her more is the guilt welling up inside of her. “Consequences of my actions,” she responds simply. “She didn’t hit any major arteries or organs. I won’t be able to do any heavy lifting for a couple of weeks, but I’ll be fine otherwise.” 

Wato huffs. “Don’t say it like that,” she grumbles. 

“Like what?”

“Like everything is fine,” Wato holds back her exclamation. She cups Sherlock’s cheek and forces her to stare into her eyes. “Do you know how scared I was when Reimon called me?” 

Sherlock stares back, seeing Wato more clearly. Her eyes are red rimmed and puffy; her hair is down and unkempt; and her chest is moving quickly to how fast she’s breathing. Wato’s palm is warm against her cheek, but she can also feel the slight moisture. “Wato,” Sherlock dumbly lets out. “I’m okay.” 

Wato bites her lip to stop the tears from forming. “You’re okay now, but what if you weren’t? What if she--what if she actually--” 

“Wato.” Sherlock feels her chest tighten again. She grasps Wato’s hand over her cheek, unsure of what to say. She just doesn’t want Wato to cry. Not on her account. “Wato, I’m--” 

Wato leans in quickly, catching Sherlock off guard, her lips press against Sherlock’s firmly. Sherlock can’t tell if it’s just to stop her from speaking or--she quietly gasps as Wato kisses her. She doesn’t know what to do…

Wato’s lips feel soft and pliant against her own and she slips her lips over Sherlock’s easily. She knows what she’s doing. 

Sherlock feels her heart pound inside of her. There’s a mixture of emotions that she feels bubbling to the surface. She starts to kiss Wato back like she wants to. The desire is unlike anything she’s allowed herself to feel in so long, but with Wato she lets it pour into her. 

It feels like they’re kissing forever, until Wato pulls back to catch her breath. She doesn’t go far, pressing her forehead against Sherlock’s comfortably. 

Sherlock relaxes against her and feels the relief throughout her body. “Wato…” 

“Sherlock,” Wato hushes, carefully presses her fingers to Sherlock’s lips. She shuts her eyes as she takes a deep breath. “Aishiteru.” 

“Ano…” There’s an indescribable feeling inside of Sherlock - like her whole heart swells. 

“It’s okay,” Wato kisses her again to effectively stop her from speaking. “Just don’t scare me anymore. Wakata?” 

Sherlock swallows and lets out a small grunt. “Wakata.” Wato lets out a sigh of relief that only brings a smile to Sherlock’s lips. “Wakata,” she repeats, feeling the joy from inside of her. Sherlock leans in to quickly kiss Wato, eliciting a small gasp. 


End file.
